


The Best Part of Me

by ignite



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tattoos, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3200165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignite/pseuds/ignite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where you share a tattoo with your soulmate, Geoff remains blank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Part of Me

**Author's Note:**

> warnings : Emotional abuse. A lot of it. + child abuse although I don't go into details. +slut-shaming.

His father’s body was blank.  
His mother didn’t talk about it.

~

Every evening she would sit Geoff down on his bed, his little legs too short to even reach the floor yet.

She took his shirt off and took his wrists in her wiry hands, turning them over one way and the other, lifting his arms, putting them back down. Whispered prayers fell from her mouth as her eyes searched him, looking for a Mark, for a sign.

Geoff let her do, let her fingers pull on his skin until it hurt.

Day after day he stayed blank, his pale skin showing nothing, white and spotless. And day after day Mom would cry.

She always hugged him afterwards, perhaps to apologize for the tears.

She smelled of detergent and nothing else, her dry hair tickled Geoff’s neck. He could feel her bracelets against his back, the ones that hid the three black dots etched on the inside of her right wrist. Geoff barely ever saw them.

They formed a triangle, those three simple dots. And his father did not have them.

~

His father’s skin was as white as Geoff’s, his eyes as blue as Geoff’s ; his body was blank and so was Geoff’s.

But Dad always reeked of alcohol and his clothes were torn and dirty ; Geoff’s clothes were always clean and smelled like Mom. Dad was like Geoff but Geoff wasn’t like Dad, Mom had said so. She said so with so much force in her voice that Geoff believed her.

Sometimes Dad disappeared for hours. He would come back home looking like a zombie and fall onto the couch. His bloodshot blue eyes would look at his wife and son as if he was waiting for them to drop dead.

On days like this, Mom would check Geoff for a Mark again. She would hug him and rock him gently.

"You’ll be loved," she’d say, her voice shaking. "You’ll get a Mark. You will find your soulmate. You’ll be loved."

And it sounded like a threat rather than a promise.

~

"He’s too young yet."

An old lady had rung the doorbell. Geoff had followed Mom to the door, curious -not many people rung that bell. The lady on the front porch had smiled broadly, but before she could even say anything, Mom had snapped at Geoff to go to his room and not come out.Geoff had pretended to obey.

Now he was hiding behind the living room’s door, watching through a slim crack and holding his breath.

Mom was nervous. She kept looking at the Marks on the lady’s arms and neck, even one on her left cheek. Geoff counted twelve Marks.

Twelve soulmates.

"People get their Marks younger than that," retorted Mom.

"Some do. Don’t you think it is damaging to Geoff to keep reminding him of it?"

"You’re more damaged than he is."

Mom’s voice was obviously mean. The lady didn’t flinch. She put the coffee down and looked at a beautiful flower etched on the back of her hand.

"You never believed me," said the lady, "when I told you those were not all lovers."

"Soulmates are what they are," said Mom.

"They are people with whom you connect, dear. Not always people with whom you spend your life."

"That’s what people like you always say. That’s the handy little lie you tell yourself to help you sleep at night."

"Sweetie, your father-" the lady stroked the flower with the tip of her fingers, "was a special man, but he was not supposed to be with me forever. Our relationship simply did not work like that, you have to understand this."

Mom snorted. “Yeah, right. You played with him and then discarded him, that’s what you did. How can you possibly want me to understand when I’ve never even met him?”

"He moved on."

"So have you. You don’t even remember his name. You had a kid with him and you can’t be bothered to remember his name!"

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was pregnant. You weren’t supposed to happen."

Mom flinched as if she’d been slapped. But she gritted her teeth, and her chest heaved.

"Yes, I’m a mistake. You just wanted to fuck him and move on but then I happened. I’d say I’m sorry to have ruined your life and stopped you from screwing everyone you’ve ever met, but that didn’t even happen, did it? You just kept doing it! How many people in total? You don’t even have that many Marks. You’re just fucked up -and now I’m fucked up too!"

Geoff gasped and slapped both hands over his mouth.

Mom never swore. Mom was made of soft words and quiet tears. Curses and insults were Dad’s words, they should always stay Dad’s words. Geoff almost put his fingers to his ears, almost ran to his room to hide.

"You’re scared your loveless marriage has made Geoff different, aren’t you?" asked the lady.

Mom narrowed her eyes. She looked bigger than normal, shaking with anger, her eyes alight with a fire Geoff had never seen.

"Geoff will have his Mark. His one Mark. He will find his soulmate, and he will be loved exclusively and unconditionally. Even if I have to find his soulmate myself, even if they live on the other side of the planet. He won’t end up like me or like you. He will. Be loved."

"You’re not helping him."

"What do you know? Your soul thinks it’s entitled to a piece of everyone on this fucking planet!"

"It’s love—"

"Nobody has that much love!" screamed Mom. "Your soul is greedy and broken, you’re-… you’re just like him!”

The lady looked at Mom, dark blue eyes looking at dark blue eyes.

"Your soulmate was a selfish man. His brother is not much better, I think you’ll agree. How’s David?"

"Fine," snapped Mom.

"Still drinking himself silly every evening?"

"Shut up."

"Still unable to hold down a job longer than a month? Still ignoring his own son?"

"I said shut up!"

Mom was on her feet, her hands curled in fists. Geoff recoiled, but the lady only sighed and stood up too.

"I’m sorry, dear. I’ll leave you alone. Just make sure you and Geoffrey are safe, would you? You know my house is always open for you two."

"Geoff will never put a foot in your house. I won’t allow you to spoil his soul before it even marked him."

The lady smiled sadly, and turned around. She started toward the door and Geoff darted away.

To his surprise, five minutes later, the old lady came to his room.

"Hello, Geoffrey," she said with a smile.

"Hi," answered Geoff meekly.

"My name is Rosemary."

"Okay." And before she could say anything else, Geoff blurted out, "Does it hurt?"

"My Marks?" Rosemary asked, still smiling. "No. It never hurts when it’s real love."

"Oh." Geoff scrunched up his nose. "People said it hurt."

"Because some people don’t know how to love, and love always hurts you if you don’t know what to do with it."

Geoff grimaced. “I don’t understand.”

"It doesn’t matter, not for now." She put a hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. "You take all the time you need."

That thumb on his cheek felt weird. Geoff wanted it to go away.

"I want one," he said, "but I don’t want it to hurt…"

"I’m sure it won’t, sweetheart. I’m sure it won’t." She didn’t sound convincing at all. "Here, Geoff, take this." She gave him a slip of paper with a number written on it. "If your dad ever hurts you or your mother in any way, I want you to call this number. It’s mine. I will come immediately. Do you hear?"

Geoff nodded timidly.

"Don’t tell your mother," added the lady. "And don’t worry about your Mark. It will come, sweetie. And it will not hurt."

She kissed him on the cheek, and walked out of his room.

~

At ten years old, Geoff got a mark.

His father’s hands were too big and too strong for Geoff’s pale skin. The bruise was almost black and looked like it was going to stay forever.

Mom cried, and cried, and it looked like she was never going to stop. She took Geoff in her arms and cried even harder.

"You’ll have a Mark," she whispered in his ear. "You tell me when it appears. I will help you find your soulmate. I will find them. I promise. Nothing else will matter anymore. This won’t matter anymore. Because you’ll be loved."

Geoff wondered why his own eyes stayed dry when his mother was crying waterfalls in his hair. He was shaking like a leaf as he held her, his lanky arms gripping her thin shoulders. He could feel her bracelets against his back.

He called the number on the piece of paper later that night, once Mom and Dad had gone to sleep. His arm hurt when he reached for the phone.

Nobody answered.

~

So many people got their Marks.

Some of them swore it hurt like hell. They were all people Geoff didn’t particularly like ; he guessed they didn’t deserve love.

One girl at his school got two Marks on the same day, one on each side of her neck. She was horrified. She hid them under turtleneck sweaters, and she cried when people laughed in her back. Geoff heard them hurl insults at her, saying her soul was thirsty and selfish, saying she was compensating for being so empty inside. He looked the other way.

When his neighbor got her Mark, her parents threw her a party. Geoff was invited, but Mom refused to let him go. He watched through his bedroom’s window as she performed a Coming of Age ceremony, dressed in an orange robe, her naked feet skittering on the grass. Geoff had never been to such a ceremony, but he knew it was supposed to symbolize the cycle of souls and their journey to find their match.

He wondered if Mom had done it when she’d gotten her Mark.

Geoff was still blank, but he had a lot of marks. Cuts, mainly, some welts here and there, that stayed on his pale skin for weeks and weeks. Dad liked to throw him into furniture. He said he liked the noise, it made him laugh.

Geoff hid his skin under long-sleeved shirts and pants, happy that his mother had stopped reading his skin every evening. He didn’t want her to see the marks.

At fifteen, he got a job. It meant he was less often home. He could avoid his father’s blank skin and his mother’s lifeless eyes.

Coming home to his parents fighting was becoming more and more common, so much so that Geoff sometimes contemplated sleeping outside in the streets, just to avoid his father’s loud words and his mother’s quiet tears.

But it didn’t seem fair, somehow ; because Mom always came to his room after a fight and hugged him as if Geoff as her only solace, whispering gibberish about Marks in his ear. He had to be there for this, or Mom would break.

One night Dad threatened Mom with a broken plate, and Geoff didn’t even think. He was standing between them before he could understand what was going on.

It ended with his father storming out, legs barely holding him upright as the alcohol ran through his veins, and with a cut on Geoff’s arm that refused to stop bleeding. His mother was too busy crying to get him to the ER. He sat her down with a blanket around her shoulders, and called a taxi.

He asked for a phone while a doctor, his Mark clearly visible on the back of his hand, elegant black arabesques curling on his dark skin, stitched him up. A nurse brought him to an empty room and he dialled the number he had memorized by now.

It rang into nothing, as usual. Geoff hung up. The nurse looked sad for him, asked if she could do something. She had eyes almost as blue as his and no visible Mark.

"Do you have a Soulmate?" Geoff asked.

The nurse blinked at him.

"I do," she answered. "Was that who you were trying to call?"

"No."

Geoff hopped off the bed and left.

~

The light in his mother’s eyes was dulling a little more every day. Her countless tears left creases on her thin face.

Geoff spent nights wide awake, looking at his bare arms as if he could will a Mark to appear.

~

There were movies about tattoo artists -dramas, mostly. An hour and a half full of romantic twists for them to realize the error of their ways and stop trying to imitate life by painting false Marks on the bodies of surly youths and drug dealers.

People thought they were cheaters, deceivers. Liars. Enablers. They weren’t illegal, but it was all the same. Nobody in their right mind would think about manipulating someone into getting a false Mark. It was cheating. Depending on who you asked, it was vain, or pathetic, or just plain evil. Who, after all, would play with something as pure and personal as a soulmate?

Geoff didn’t really know how he ended up there, in this dingy alley where dodgy-looking men watched him with shining eyes. He’d heard rumors about a local tattoo artist, but he had never thought he would ever actually find the guy.

He came out of the crumbling shop with two black bands around his forearm, cutting through the long scar his Dad had given him two years ago. It hurt. The needle had dug into his flesh and broken his pale skin.

On his way home Geoff kept looking over his shoulder. Guilt was weighing on his shoulders and making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It felt wrong, it felt manipulative and twisted, but Geoff walked resolutely toward his house. The guilt was his own problem, he could deal with it.

He would put the light back in Mom’s eyes.

Nobody needed to know about the tattoo artist. In a few years’ time, when Mom would be more stable, Geoff would invent an excuse -say his soulmate had died, or was in another country. It shouldn’t be hard to explain why he couldn’t find them. The most important thing was to show his mother that he wasn’t broken, that he could be loved. That she hadn’t broken him.

He wanted to show it to her immediately, but the skin was still red and abused, it even bled in some places. Maybe he would wait a couple of days, let it rest for a while so it looked more genuine…

But when he walked into the house, Mom was lying on the floor. She looked like a broken doll, her eyes were open but unseeing, and tattoos didn’t matter anymore.

Geoff screamed.

~

There was no one but him when they put the coffin in the earth. Mom hadn’t known many people, and the few she did know didn’t answer Geoff’s call. His father wasn’t there either.

He buried her without a priest. No one to bless her soul, to say it was part of the universe and everything had a purpose. Mom’s life had been tortured by her soul, Geoff didn’t want anyone to bless it. It could rot in Hell, or be reincarnated in something horrible, or whatever else people chose to believe. Geoff thought it was just dead. He wanted it to be dead.

He left the cemetery under the pouring rain. In three months, he would be eighteen years old. Nobody had come to bother him about being parentless yet -nobody really knew that his father wasn’t in the picture anymore. Geoff was free as a fucking bird.

His tattoo was still hurting a bit. If he ever got a Mark, a real one… mom would never know. It had been the one thing that kept her going in life, but she had grown tired of waiting. She had given up on it, given up on Geoff. Given up on life altogether.

He’d been walking aimlessly for hours now. Night had fallen.

He found the dingy alley again. He found the same fucking guy. Geoff gave him his other arm.

God fucking damn it, this shit hurt so much.

~

He met Michael and Ray for the first time six years after he left the Army.

He was visiting New York, where tattoo artists were said to proliferate. Geoff had found a couple of them. The skin on his arms and all the scars that marred it were slowly disappearing under black ink.

The two guys were trying not to stare, but it was hard when Geoff was sitting right across them in a nearly-empty bus and wearing a sleeveless shirt. He’d caught them looking several times, and had concealed a smirk as they quickly averted their eyes every time.

He could see their Mark, a cartoon-ish flower on their left middle finger. Geoff imagined the both of them flipping someone off in unison, showing off their Mark, using it as an insult. He would do it if he had knuckles tattoos… He should get knuckle tattoos.

He didn’t talk to them. They didn’t talk to him. They all went on their own way, thinking they would never meet again.

Geoff didn’t believe in Fate at all -or at least, if it existed, it had completely given up on him- but when he met with the two guys again three years later, expecting to hire them, he had a moment of doubt.

This was so fucking weird. For a moment, just a moment, a fraction of a second, Geoff found himself wondering if it meant something.  
But they didn’t seem to even remember him. He’d recognized them because of their Marks ; they didn’t even seem to care about Geoff’s.

They joked around, carefree, unbothered, and obviously not tethered to Geoff’s life in any special way. They were with each other and happy to be so, and Geoff was not part of this. Nothing noteworthy.

This wasn’t Fate. It was just a random fucking quirk of life.

~

In the Texas heat nobody could really conceal their Mark. Unless they had it on their torso, which was quite rare, it was usually on proud display on their sweaty skin.

Geoff’s arms weren’t strangers to the sun either. Every time he went out, eyes converged toward his tattoos. His calves and ankles hadn’t been left out either.

He was the most marked man in Austin, as far as he knew. He just wasn’t Marked, but nobody knew that. They all saw new tattoos appear over the years and they never commented on it, because none of them dared.

Nobody knew.

Well. Almost nobody.

"It’s kind of ironic," said Jack.

They’d just ended a party of poker with several friends, and were now enjoying a beer while said friends had gone back home.

"What is?" asked Geoff.

"That someone blank would have so many marks."

Geoff looked at his arms. “Is it ironic?”

"Well. It’s odd. I mean, not ‘bad’ odd," corrected Jack quickly. "Just, you know… funny."

Jack was always so scared of offending Geoff, it was almost endearing. If there was one thing that didn’t offend him, it was being told he was weird. He knew that already ; he had written it on his arms in black ink and pale colors.

But since tonight had been an alcohol night, Jack’s tongue was loose.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Geoff nodded cautiously.

"Did it hurt?"

"Fuck yeah," said Geoff immediately.

"Then why did you do it?"

Geoff didn’t answer. Jack didn’t push it. Even alcohol couldn’t make him miss the look in Geoff’s eyes.

~

Gavin Free was an odd little British thing. His Mark was a trail of orange and yellow flames that stretched from his clavicle to the top of his shoulder.

He’d come over to America without a thought for his soulmate.

"If I’m to meet them, then I’ll meet them wherever I am," he’d said. "If I won’t meet them then… you know, whatever."

Geoff wasn’t sure he followed the logic, but then he rarely followed Gavin’s train of thoughts.

Gavin also did not know the word ‘tact’.

"Are all those your soulmates?"

"Yes," answered Geoff without missing a beat. He was looking tiredly at a computer screen, wishing he could be in bed right now and not working next to a very awake British accent with a nose.

"Did you meet them all?"

"Huh huh."

"And like… I mean did you…"

"I screwed them all, yes," said Geoff placidly.

Gavin made one of his weird little noises. “Not what I was gonna ask, but all right… I’ll take the hint…”

The conversation was dropped.

~

"I remember you," said Michael casually almost a six months after he was hired.

Six months of Geoff watching him and Ray be happy together, of learning to know them while standing outside of their little love-fest.

"I’d be worried if you didn’t, we see each other every day," he answered calmly.

Michael swivelled on his chair to face him.

"No, I mean we met before you hired me. And Ray, too. You don’t remember?"

Geoff felt a surge of… something in him. If Michael remembered, why hadn’t he told him earlier? Did he think it wasn’t important, that it didn’t matter?

"It took you that long to remember?"

"No. It’s just -you know…" said Michael, "I don’t really give a shit about how many soulmates you have—"

"Then we can stop this conversation," interrupted Geoff. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest was growing.

There was a moment of silence.

"How are things with Ray?"

"Great," answered Michael succinctly.

"Good for you."

"Do you have a problem with us?" asked Michael.

Geoff startled and looked at him. “What? No! Not at all.”

"Really? Because your body language’s all… weird."

"Well, you know. I’m naturally weird."

Michael laughed. “I just wanted to say that I didn’t recognize you because of your Marks. I just remembered your eyes.”

"Okay," said Geoff awkwardly.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Forget it.”

He went back to work. Geoff pretended to do the same, suddenly conscious of how he was sitting, how he was hunched on himself as if he was trying to protect himself. He shifted on his chair, tried to relax.

He didn’t even know why he was tense in the first place.

~

He had never been ashamed of his tattoos. He’d put them here purposefully, after all. He knew the kind of thoughts people entertained about him, he read it in strangers’ eyes every day of his life. He read it in his colleagues’ eyes. In his employees’ eyes.

With Achievement Hunter’s growing fame, they all appeared on camera more often. But if he ever was in the shot, he only showed his head. He didn’t want the Internet to speculate. He didn’t wish to see those thoughts plastered all over the world’s largest public forum.

Until the day his tattoos appeared in a video. Nobody had caught it while editing, and now Geoff’s Marks were the subject of all the threads.

Burnie was pissed off with the editor. Geoff just shrugged apathetically. It was bound to happen one day or another…

He went home early that day. He lied down on his bed and raised both his arms up. He remembered doing this when he was eight, ten, fourteen years old, waiting for a Mark to appear on that disgustingly blank skin. When had he given up on waiting?

His phone was ringing relentlessly by his side, Jack’s name flashing on the screen.

“ _Your soul is greedy and broken_ ,” said his mother’s voice in his head.

There had been so much contempt in that sentence.

Geoff had seen his blank state and had decided to fight it with ink. He could have stopped at one tattoo, make everyone believe he had a soulmate and move on… but his mother had died, and one tattoo hadn’t felt right anymore.

Two hadn’t either. Nor fifteen, or twenty. He still felt blank. He always felt blank. Unmarked by anything but the scars his father had given him while laughing.

Hearing people whisper behind his back always made him smirk. Jack was right, it was kind of ironic. People only saw his ink and it allowed Geoff to hide. Being hated for something that wasn’t true was so much easier.

He was stuck in a fucked-up miasma made of old memories and his mother’s voice ringing in his head like an alarm.

"It only hurts if you don’t know how to love," he mumbled.

Would a real Mark have hurt him? Of course it would have. Like his mother, he’d been born out of a loveless marriage. Mom had ended broken and alone. There was no reason why Geoff wouldn’t.

Jack’s name had been replaced by Michael’s now. Geoff turned off his phone.

~

Jack’s Mark was a star and it was so pretty that Geoff, he had to admit it, was jealous.

It was a wind rose, eight points made by two four-pointed stars on top of each other. It rested just above his left elbow, just on the side of his arm.

On a bright Tuesday morning, Geoff found himself staring at Ryan’s arm and wondering why the fuck he had never noticed. Ryan had been away from the office quite a lot to work on other projects and often wore shirts with sleeves just long enough to hide it -but still. He’d been Geoff’s employee for a year now and the fucking star wasn’t exactly inconspicuous.

Marks were something Geoff noticed.

Ryan caught him staring and placed his hand over the wind rose.

"Sorry," said Geoff immediately.

"S’ fine," said Ryan.

Geoff looked at him. Surely he knew, and Jack knew. Why hadn’t they told him?

"It’s complicated," said Ryan, as if he’d read Geoff’s thoughts.

"Complicated?" repeated Geoff. "How can it be complicated? You’ve got your soulmate etched in your skin, dude. It’s the simplest thing on earth."

Ryan laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the one saying that. Your arms look like a logistical nightmare. How do you even… I couldn’t keep up with that many people.”

Ryan had never asked anything about Geoff’s arms. He hadn’t even looked surprised the first time he’d seen them. Geoff had always been a bit comforted by the man’s spontaneous acceptance, and now he was talking about it there wasn’t a trace of surprise in his voice.

"Have you met someone with that many Marks before?" asked Geoff.

"Not that many, no. But my father had several." Ryan shrugged. "I sort of had a lot of moms… And dads."

"That’s not what this is," said Geoff immediately.

Ryan tensed a little, sensing the hackles going up.

"I wasn’t insinuating anything, Geoff…"

"I don’t use people. I don’t cheat."

"That’s not what I said—"

"I don’t sleep around with the first person I see. I don’t play with them."

"Jesus Christ, stop!" said Ryan, eyes wide and posture defensive. "I didn’t mean any of that. Don’t… don’t do that weird mea-culpa thing, I know you’re not sleeping around, and even if you did I… I don’t care, all right? I don’t care that much about Marks."

Geoff looked at him for a minute.

How nice it must be, not to care about Marks. How nice, and how stupid. One single Mark, shared by a man as sweet as Jack. It was so simple, so fucking simple. Ryan didn’t fucking know ‘complicated’.

"Talk to Jack," said Geoff.

He’d meant it as an advice. It sounded like an order.

~

Ryan and Jack came to work together the next day.

Geoff watched them slowly fall in love with each other, knowing it was partly his fault. He watched Ray and Michael be in love. He watched Gavin not care.

It wasn’t like he needed to see other people’s happiness to remind him how fucked-up he was. But it helped.

~

He received Ray’s call at eleven at night.

"Can I ask a weird question?"

Geoff was already weirded out. Ray never called.

"Sure."

"It’s about your Marks."

Geoff hesitated. “I don’t think I can help with that, Ray. Is everything all right with Michael?”

"Yeah. Well. It’s, hum… something happened tonight."

"Right? What?"

"So you know Gavin’s Mark, huh? Well. Michael has the same."

"…He does?"

"He was saying his shoulder felt funny all day. And, well, tonight he was getting ready for bed and… He has the flames."

Geoff felt a cold feeling dribble down his spine. Michael’s soul had gone and fucked everything up. Goodbye the happy couple.

"I don’t know what to say," he said honestly.

"Nah," said Ray. He sounded way too chipper. Hesitant, but fucking chipper. "I thought you wouldn’t. I was just wondering if you got all your Marks when you were younger or if you got some of them when you were already an adult."

"I… got about half of them after I turned twenty five," answered Geoff. It was the truth. He’d quit the army when he was twenty-five -you can’t really find tattoo artists when you’re in Kuwait for half the year.

"Okay… I know you say all of them aren’t lovers," continued Ray, "but you have to had several of them who were. At the same time. I just… Hum. Wonder if it went all right."

Geoff gaped at his phone for a moment.

He’d misread the situation entirely. Ray wasn’t calling because he was heartbroken.

"Are you asking me for tips?"

"… if you have any," said Ray’s sheepish voice.

"You’re going to invite Gavin in?"

"Well, if he wants to. Michael and I had actually been thinking about it for a while. It’s just like… an opportunity."

"But you don’t have Gavin’s Mark… do you?"

"No. I can still lo-like him," corrected Ray quickly, "can’t I? I mean Michael and I never really cared that much about Marks anyway…" An awkward silence passed, before Ray added, "Do you disapprove?"

"You’re not Gavin’s soulmate," said Geoff, as if that was an answer. Maybe it was.

"Geoff, please. You’re hurting my feelings here."

Ray was trying to turn it into a joke. He’d picked up on Geoff’s uneasiness. Fuck.

"I don’t have any advice for you. Sorry."

_‘Nobody has that much love.’_

"All right. Sorry to have bothered you, I guess. I just… needed to tell you. I mean, if we’re gonna work in the same room and everything, it’s gonna be a bit obvious."

"Right."

"Geoff? You… all right?"

"Yes." Geoff tried to sound casual. "I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have pinned you as a… uh… polyamory-type person."

Ray chuckled nervously. “Neither would I. Weird, huh.”

"Yes."

There was too much honesty in that last word. Ray probably heard it. He said goodbye and hung up quickly.

There was something hurting in Geoff’s chest. Something ugly and petty and childish and Geoff couldn’t believe he was feeling it right now.

It was anger, but it was burning like a disgusting poison. It was jealousy, and it was twisted.

He rubbed his tattoos. In his fucked-up mind, they started hurting.

~

He used to dream about getting a Mark.

See his mother’s face when he would finally get home and show it to her, proudly. He imagined they’d find his soulmate, and the three of them would live happily ever after, like in a fairytale.

It’s easy to believe that when you’re eight years old and your mother cries over your pale skin.

It’s harder when you’re eighteen and have been forced to join the army because you’re alone in the whole fucking world.

And it’s impossible when you reach thirty-five and you’re standing alone in the middle of a crowd.

~

"So how many people has Geoff fucked?" asked Gavin out loud.

"What the hell!?" cried out Michael as everyone turned around on their chairs.

But Gavin was frowning at his cellphone.

"It’s a Twitter question we’ve just been tagged into. Like, all of us."

Michael and Jack got their own phones out.

"Well, I guess this guy really wants an answer then," said Michael, tapping on his phone a little more brutally than necessary.

"Don’t worry about it," dismissed Geoff. "I get those daily."

"People are dumb," mumbled Ray.

"I’m pretty sure Geoff’s a virgin," declared Michael jokingly.

"Yes I am," said Geoff immediately, and everyone laughed as if it was the most ridiculous thing they’d ever heard.

Well, at least that told Geoff that everyone actually thought he was promiscuous. They didn’t like it when random Twitter users pointed it out but they all agreed with the sentiment.

He laughed with them and went back to work.

Damn, his tattoos were really hurting.

~

Ray had a quick tongue but didn’t share Michael’s proclivity for rude gestures.

Michael’s middle finger got in a lot of people’s face, and so did the black flower etched just there on his skin.

It made Ray grimace and roll his eyes.

"I feel like you’re using me to insult other people. It’s like ‘I don’t like you, take Ray in the face’."

"Well, yeah," said Michael. "You are the best insult."

"Thanks. I love you too."

Geoff was silently gritting his teeth, his fingers drumming loudly on the desk.

They were joking, of course they were joking. Michael did it to rile Ray up, and Ray wasn’t that bothered by it. But Geoff wanted to scream at them both. Tell them to fucking stop this, stop taking their Marks so flippantly, stop fucking playing with them. They didn’t realize the luck they were swimming in and it was getting more and more infuriating each day.

And Geoff hated himself for it. These violent feelings weren’t welcomed at all. Since when had he become such an uptight drama queen?

He’d never gotten these knuckle tattoos, he thought as he watched his fingers drum in anger. He should think about it. Get more tattoos, bury himself under them until it was all everybody could see.

~

Drunk Geoff talked a lot.

"I think it’s like genes."

"What?" prompted Drunk Jack, leaning against the kitchen’s wall.

Behind them the New Year’s Eve party was going strong ; a stupendous number of Rooster Teeth employees were having fun on all the floors of Burnie’s house.

"Souls," said Geoff as he finally found what he was looking for -a brand new bottle of wine.

Jack looked at him oddly. Either because he didn’t understand, or because his eyes were swimming in alcohol and couldn’t quite focus.

"See, genes are there to make you live," slurred Geoff, swirling an index finger around to make his point. "But sometimes they fuck up and give you deadly diseases and deformations and other stuff. And the Marks are there because your soul wants to connect with someone it goes along with, but sometimes it fucks up and you end up Marked with someone you hate or with too many Marks an’ you don’t know what to do." Geoff’s finger drooped. "It’s kinda sad."

"Sure," agreed Jack airily. "So what does that make you?"

“‘makes me nothing.”

The clock was approaching midnight. Ray, Gavin and Michael were going to kiss each other, probably take turns or something. They must have planned it all. Jack and Ryan were going to kiss each other too. Geoff was going to watch them from afar.

"Oh, no I won’t do that. That’s creepy," he mumbled to himself.

"What?" said Jack, swinging a little on his feet.

"I won’t watch!" promised Geoff.

"Okay!" said Jack with no idea of what was going on. He hobbled away, back into the party.

Midnight struck. Geoff pulled down on the long sleeves of his dress shirt and looked away.

When he looked back, Michael was kissing Ryan -which was not the plan. Well, not Geoff’s plan. It might have been Michael’s plan. If it was, he better have run that past Gavin and Ray’s plans.

Which he apparently had, since Gavin was kissing Jack.

Geoff’s was really the only plan that wasn’t holding on.

He eyed the bottle of wine, biting his lower lip.

"I’m not judging," he grumbled to himself.

He took the whole fucking bottle and walked out of the house and into the garden. He lied down on a patch of grass and drunkenly decided to sleep here.

~

Drunk Gavin was handsy -as illustrated by the fact that Geoff woke up on the grass, a bit less drunk than before, with Drunk Gavin’s hands pawing at his chest and apparently trying to unbutton his shirt.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he mumbled, his mouth dry and uncooperative.

"I wuz wondering if you had a Mark," slurred Gavin.

"I have hundreds of them. Go away. Stop… molesting me."

"Noooo. I mean a Mark," said Gavin, and he held out an arm. "Like this one."

There was a star just above his elbow. A wind rose.

Geoff ogled. “When?”

"Yesterday," said Gavin sort of proudly.

"Geoff?" came Ryan’s voice as the man himself appeared behind Gavin. "What are you doing in the grass? You’re going to freeze to death dude."

Ryan was never Drunk Ryan. Neither was Ray. These two knew exactly what they were doing when they let the others kiss them.

"Who cares," groaned Geoff.

"What?" asked Ryan.

Okay, maybe Geoff hadn’t sobered up as much as he’d thought. His head spun when he sat up and his stomach rolled on itself.

"Marks are stupid anyway."

"Sure," said Ryan slowly. He took Geoff’s arms and tried to pull him up. "Come on, Geoff. Go sit inside."

"Fuck off, Ryan. Go whore yourself out somewhere else."

"Huh… What?"

"Ya heard me. Go have an orgy with your thousand soulmates."

Geoff’s clammy hands slipped out of Ryan’s grasp, and he flopped back into the grass.

"You have a thousand soulmates, Ryan?" asked Sober Ray, walking toward them. "You didn’t tell me."

"Shut up, Ray. Just… help me get him inside."

But Geoff scrambled out of reach. “Don’t touch me! You’re all fucked up.”

"All right…" said Ray. "What’s he talking about?"

"I think he doesn’t approve of… us," said Ryan.

"You’re all damaged!" Geoff’s hands were curled in the freezing grass.

"Geoff, keep it down," frowned Ryan.

"No, go away! Just go the fuck away. I don’t want anything to do with you and your fucking Marks. You’re all liars. Can’t love anyone!"

"Geoff," hissed Ryan, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the people partying inside. The door had been left open and Geoff was almost screaming.

"What? You don’t want anyone else to know how fucked-up your little arrangement is?" spat out Geoff. "Everyone knows! They point at you when you’re not looking. They all think you’re selfish sluts. Nobody can love that many people!"

"Geoff, I don’t even have Gavin’s Mark," reminded Ray. "I chose to—"

"You chose to fuck someone else’s soulmate, you’re not a saint! S’not love, it’s just thirst—"

"All right, Geoff. Stop."

Ryan took a step forward and Geoff darted.

He had no idea how he was managing to run with so much alcohol coursing through him. He jumped over the backyard’s fence, and fell into a heap on the sidewalk on the other side. If he hurt himself, he didn’t realize it. He got back up and ran.

A blinding light fell on him. Something honked loudly.

Geoff forgot how to move.

Someone screamed his name and then something collided with him, and he was thrown aside and landed on the hard tarmac.

He closed his eyes.

~

The ceiling of his own bedroom and a hangover from hell were both waiting for him when he woke up. He heard a quiet conversation around him, telling him someone else was sharing his plight.

"I have the headache of the century."

"Really? I feel great! How do you feel, Ryan?"

"Good. Refreshed."

"Shut the fuck up, assholes."

"Hey! Geoff’s awake!"

Geoff’s eyes travelled down to meet Jack and Gavin’s by his side. The both of them didn’t look particularly happy to see him.

Geoff blinked and tried to clear his throat. “I… don’t…”

Ray put a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. “Did you know this guy can tackle like a football player?”

"You’re a fucking idiot, Geoff," said Jack. "You’re lucky Gavin was too drunk to be scared and you were drunk enough to stumble when he hit you."

"I almost dislocated my shoulder," whined Gavin.

"And he almost cracked his skull on the sidewalk," said Ryan.

Geoff stared at Gavin, who stared back at him with a touch of fear in his eyes. Geoff had almost killed him. He’d almost killed the boy.

He should apologize. Take Gavin in a hug. See if his shoulder needed medical attention. Do something, anything, instead of staring dumbly.

But he didn’t, and Michael turned around and raised a hand.

"All right, everybody : he’s awake and alive, we can go home."

Geoff fought with the blanket so he could sit up. He was still dressed and reeked of sweat and alcohol ; dried blood covered his hands. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, saw his bloodshot eyes, and when he blinked he could have sworn his father blinked back at him.

"Wait!"

The guys stopped and looked at him.

"What?" asked Jack, already halfway out of the room. "You wanted us to leave, we’re leaving."

"I didn’t mean any of it," said Geoff, his voice cracking. "I was drunk."

"Really? We didn’t notice," snarked Ray.

"Come on," said Ryan. "You’ve been watching us like a hawk for months. We all know you don’t approve of our choices."

"Wh-that’s not…"

"Not what?"

Geoff’s mouth closed. It was true after all, he had been watching them all. A lot. Felt anger grow inside him every day until it turned him into a bitter, depressed blob of painted flesh.

But he didn’t want them to go away. If they closed that door on him Geoff was sure he was going to break. If only he could will his mouth into opening again and fucking talk to them, for fuck’s sake. Why was he frozen?

The guys took his silence wrongly.

"Fuck you very much," said Michael. "We’ve never said anything to you and your hundreds of soulmates, it’d be great if you fucking respected us too. Or at least have the decency to not fucking insult us in front of all our friends, thanks."

Michael’s tone was harsh. Geoff dropped his eyes to his hands and scratched at the blood and dirt. He heard the door close, and five pair of feet leave the house.

If only the earth had the good grace to open up and swallow him, Geoff would have been grateful. He’d never felt more pathetic in his life.

His tattoos were burning.

~

Mom’s tombstone was covered in lichen. You could barely read her name anymore. Geoff tried to scrape it all off, but it was a lost battle. The stone was cheap and brittle, it had been eaten away by twenty years of oblivion.

Geoff didn’t have anything to put on the grave, not even a bouquet. He’d been thinking a lot during the long drive to Alabama, trying to remember his mother’s favorite flowers. He’d come to realize that he had no fucking clue.

He didn’t know what was her favorite food either. Or her favorite color, music, movie. All he knew about her was that she’d wanted him to have a Mark.

Geoff crouched, his colorful arms on his knees.

"Look, Mom, are you proud of me yet? All these marks and I’m not loved."

He sat down on the ground, facing the tomb. His phone vibrated in his pocket. It had been vibrating constantly for two days straight, ever since Geoff had left Austin. He hadn’t looked at it yet.

He stayed a little longer just looking at the stone, at the flaky patches of green that were eating his mother’s name, trying to erase her as if she wasn’t important enough to be remembered. No soulmate, no happy family or friends to cherish memories of her life. Only a son who couldn’t decide whether to hate her or not.

When he finally took out his phone, Geoff waded through the wall of texts and missed calls until he saw the last message.

"I told the others about your tattoos. Please call me."

Jack’s name was attached to this.

For a moment, Geoff contemplated digging into the earth and burying his phone right there.

~

Why had he ever told Jack? He had no idea. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Alcohol might have been involved.

Jack hadn’t judged. Jack hadn’t said anything for a while, he’d just stared at the tattoos with his mouth half-open.

"Isn’t it dangerous?" he’d asked finally.

"Not if you know what you’re doing," had said Geoff.

"Do you?"

"Is that all you have to say?" had asked Geoff with a frown.

"I just. Don’t want you to get sepsis or something."

That had been Jack’s immediate reaction. No anger or disgust, just worry.

Then there had been pity. But Jack was good at hiding that. Geoff only saw it from time to time, when he caught Jack staring at him from afar.

~

He stayed in the cemetery for far too long. The sun was going down and there were no lights here.

Geoff had been meandering between the tombstone, looking for vaguely familiar names. He didn’t find his father. He found a Rosemary who had died three months after Geoff had received a slip of paper and a phone number that no one ever answered. His mother’s maiden name had been Davies.

His god damned cellphone kept ringing and his tattoos kept hurting, tingling. Geoff caved in and picked up the call.

"Geoff?"

"What did you do?"

"Oh thank god," breathed Jack into the phone. "I thought… I don’t know. You didn’t come to work, you aren’t home, nobody knows where you are."

"So? I took some time off."

"Yeah… You could have warned."

I’m too much of a coward, thought Geoff.

"What was that text about, Jack?"

"You know what it’s about. I’m sorry."

Geoff didn’t say anything. Jack continued.

"Everyone is worried, they don’t understand why you snapped -I don’t really understand it either. I just know you have some kind of… thing with Marks. Listen, nobody cares. They just want you to come home safely."

"What?" Geoff sat down on a tombstone. "Do you think I’m on a bridge somewhere thinking about suicide? I’m in Alabama, Jack. I’m on vacation."

"It’s not exactly normal to just take off without telling anyone! We were worried!"

"Well I’m not exactly normal."

Jack laughed. “No, you’re really not. Geoff, come on. They all want to talk to you and apologize. Nobody cares whether your Marks are real or not.”

"I do."

And Geoff hung up.

His tattoos kept hurting, just like the day before, and the day before that. He frowned and rubbed them a little through his jacket.

He’d thought the pain was in his head, that he was imagining it -but it was starting to feel a little bit too real. A little bit too persistent.

He walked out of the cemetery. He could go find a shitty motel somewhere, far away from this shitty town. Leave his mother and grandmother’s graves behind.

He sat behind the wheel.

Blinked.

And suddenly he was going at 60mph on a major road.

Geoff’s heart leapt in his throat and he instinctively crushed the brakes under his feet.

Cars swerved to avoid him, tires screeched on asphalt and horns blared. It made Geoff’s head spin.

Feverishly, he brought his car to the side of the road. He opened his door and spilled out and onto gravel. He was heaving as if two seconds away from bringing up whatever was in his stomach… What was in his stomach? He couldn’t remember the last time he ate.

His head was still spinning. Where the fuck was he? He didn’t remember leaving the town, or driving, or anything. And the pain from his tattoos felt like it was growing. Burning.

He pulled his jacket off, hoping it would help with the pain on his arms but it didn’t work. It was getting worse and his chest was getting tight, too tight.

He fumbled for his phone. He didn’t even have to dial the number he wanted, as Jack’s name flashed on the screen almost on cue. Geoff picked up, teeth gritted.

"Geoff! Finally!"

"Jack…" Oh God, Geoff was going to puke. The pain was killing him.

"Yes, it’s me. Are you still in Alabama?"

"No… Jack… oh fuck." Geoff folded on himself. Slumped as he was, he was hidden behind his car and no one could see him from the road. No one would stop to help him. He didn’t want them to, he just wanted to go home.

"Geoff?" Jack’s voice sounded urgent, suddenly. "Geoff? What’s happening?"

"I don’t kn-fuck! Jack I’m on fire!"

"What?!"

There weren’t any flames but he burned, oh god he was burning.

His left arm, just above his elbow, felt like someone was trying to drill through and reach the bone. His left middle finger was trying to tear itself off. His right shoulder felt broken.

"Jack!" he whimpered.

"Geoff I don’t know where you are. Where the fuck are you?"

"Tell him to call 911," shouted Ryan’s voice in the background.

Jack repeated the advice but Geoff shook his head.

"No," he gritted out. "They c-can’t help…"

Now Jack was screaming in his ear but Geoff was in too much pain. He slumped on the gravel and curled up, panting, until his mind shut down.

~

The tattoos were a shell. Show the world you’re weird, own it, write it in your skin, and the world can’t hurt you. Don’t hide it like his mother did.

Fight fire with fire. Blankness with ink.

If only it had worked.

~

Car.

Car.

Truck.

Car.

Geoff’s eyes mechanically followed every set of tires that zoomed past on the sliver of grey road he could see from under his own car.

He didn’t remember waking up. He couldn’t tell how long he had laid here, trying not to puke, trying not to lose his mind. He just… had suddenly realized that he was awake, and that his eyes were watching the cars and trucks drive by.

His breathing was too fast and his body was shaking with cold, but the pain had completely disappeared. A tingling little noise told him his phone was vibrating on the ground. He didn’t want to move, scared it would set off another attack of -whatever the fuck this had been.

Nobody could see him. Nobody thought twice about a random car by the side of a calm road.

Until one car slowed down, and Geoff saw its tires turn toward him before it disappeared. He heard gravel crunch under rubber, and then there were doors opening and voices shouting.

"Geoff! Geoff!!!"

"Is he dead?"

"Gavin! I fucking swear to god—"

"Everybody shut up!"

Someone fell to their knees behind Geoff and gingerly put a hand on his shoulder. Geoff flinched.

"Sorry!!" screeched Jack, his hand disappearing immediately. "I’m sorry! Holy shit… Geoff? Can you hear me?"

"Can I call the ambulance now?" asked Ray timidly.

Geoff steeled himself and, slowly, rolled onto his back.

"No," he croaked.

"Geoff!"

They had formed a semi-circle around him, pinning him against the car, looking down at him. Geoff saw their pale faces and their wide eyes.

"What happened?" asked Ryan.

"Dunno," coughed out Geoff. He took a deep breath. The fire had stopped burning but everything was sore, his muscles were vibrating.

"How did you find me?" he rasped.

"It’s really easy to track an iphone down," said Gavin.

"It’s even easier when you’ve got Ryan with you," added Jack.

Geoff’s eyes found Ryan’s. “You hacked my phone?”

"I thought you were dying in a ditch and covered in gasoline," said Ryan. "You said you were burning! We wanted to call the police but they would have tracked your phone too. I cut out the middle man."

Limbs weak and trembling, Geoff managed to sit up, ignoring the hands that were thrust in his direction in case he fell over.

"Come on," said Jack gently. "We’ll get you to a hospital."

"I don’t need it."

"You’ll say that when you’re not paler than my ass."

Geoff opened his mouth, wanting to say the patented ‘I’m fine’, but he changed his mind. His heart seemed to be beating into nothing.

~

Being brought to a hospital with no obvious illness meant being pushed into a bed and wait while nurses and doctors took his blood, looked at his eyes, asked him a thousand questions, got more blood, asked more questions, tested his reflexes, and sometimes just stood there looking at him with a frown on their face.

Geoff had half a mind to run away from this place, but five worried-looking employees were hovering around the door and he would never manage to get past them.

Eventually, he was given some sort of anti-anxiety thing that made him drowsy. He didn’t feel anxious at all -on the contrary, he felt quite empty and said so to the nurses. They smiled at him in a way he didn’t like.

"It means you’re anxious," they said, and Geoff gave up on trying to discuss anything.

All the nurses and doctors left to go play with the five pints of blood they’d taken out of his body.

"I’m pretty sure they think you took drugs and they’re just humoring us," said Ryan playfully as the guys all came closer to Geoff’s bed.

"I wonder why," grouched Geoff, "when you guys told them you found me by the side of the road complaining about some phantom fucking pain. Fuck… I should have just told them it’s my soul that’s trying to tear me apart from the inside."

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s what you think it is?”

"What else?" Geoff sighed.

"Exhaustion," suggested Jack. "You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in a month, Geoff."

"How do you explain the fucking pain, huh?" snapped Geoff. "You know what, never mind."

He lied back into the bed he’d been provided and fell silent, trying to ignore the five pairs of eyes converging toward him.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he woke up to voices whispering.

"—twenty hours, give or take. I don’t think he’s slept in three days."

"He’s a crazy motherfucker."

"Do you think he was trying to, huh… get to us?"

A beat.

"I think so. Otherwise he wouldn’t have thought to call Jack."

"I was calling him."

"And he answered rather than calling 911."

"This shit doesn’t make any sense," said Ray suddenly. "If his soul… I mean we don’t even know if it’s what that was-"

"Oh come on. Of course it is. The doctors haven’t found anything wrong with him at all! Nothing else could have hurt him like that."

"But if his soul thinks we should be soulmates, why hurt him at all? And not even give him the Marks?"

There was as short silence.

"Geoff told me Marks only hurt if you don’t know how to love," said Jack.

"What are you saying?" snapped Michael.

"Calm down, I’m not insinuating anything. I’m wondering if his soul just… really has no idea what to do. It tried, like it gave its best shot. But since it has no clue how to proceed, and Geoff was so exhausted, it all… backfired."

"Okay," said Gavin. "Well… that’s sad."

"He thinks it hurt him to teach him a lesson," said Ryan.

Fingers started tapping softly on Geoff’s hand.

"I wonder why he covered himself in tattoos. If he wanted to fit in he could have stopped at one."

"It’s a shell," said Jack.

Geoff was almost surprised enough to pop his eyes open and stare incredulously. Since when could Jack read his mind?

"A shell?" repeated Gavin.

"I’m guessing. If he’s that fucked-up over being blank…"

"Fighting blankness with ink," mused Ryan.

Geoff felt a dull pain in his chest. Why could they understand him so easily, when he could barely manage it himself?

~

They were in the car and going back to Austin when Geoff apologized.

Firstly, because everyone had insisted he rode shotgun, so that left the Lads and Ryan sitting in the back while Jack drove.

Secondly, because he’d been a little shit.

"I didn’t mean anything I said to you guys before I left. I really didn’t. I was drunk as dicks."

"Yeah, we remember," said Gavin.

"I’m especially sorry about you," said Geoff, watching the Brit in the rearview mirror. "If you had been hit by that car because of me…"

Geoff’s voice trailed off and nobody said anything. They were probably picturing it too.

"I shouldn’t interfere in your relationship. I’m not gonna fuck with you the way other people fucked with me, you don’t deserve it. I’m broken but you’re not, so. Get on with your lives. I won’t bother you anymore."

There was more silence. And then, Gavin’s voice.

"We don’t think you’re broken."

Geoff snorted. “Have you seen me? I have a soul that would rather torture me than accept soulmates.”

"I think," said Michael slowly, as if weighing his words very carefully, "that Gavin should have said that we don’t mind if you’re broken.”

"What’s the difference?"

And then there were arms around Geoff’s shoulders, embracing him from behind the seat and squeezing gently, and Geoff thought his brain might have short-circuited.

He remembered his mom’s hugs, so desperate and full of grief, her bracelets scratching his back. That wasn’t it. That was gentle and warm and the arms were firm, solid against him, not trembling with sadness.

"You scared the shit out of us," mumbled Michael, mouth probably muffled against the back of Geoff’s seat. "You told us you were burning and dying and we didn’t know where you were."

"We drove all this way to find you," said Ray. "Ryan broke every single traffic law on earth. Does it look like we want you to stay out of our life? I know you’re completely emotionally constipated, but it shouldn’t take a genius to figure that out."

"I’ve never cared about Marks anyway," said Gavin. "I mean I know you do," he added quickly, "and I don’t mind if you do. That night you drunkenly tried to kill yourself, I was trying to see if you had Jack and Ryan’s Marks because I knew you were weird about those things. I thought you would never date anyone you didn’t share a Mark with."

Geoff didn’t know what to say. His mind was as blank as his skin.

Jack pulled up to a roadside diner to get lunch. They got out of the car, into the diner, to a table -and all this time, Michael stayed close enough to touch.

Skin on skin contact in a way Geoff hadn’t felt for years. Maybe ever.

He had no idea what to do with this.

~

They brought him home -to their home. They insisted.

Geoff watched Gavin and Michael fight as they turned the couch into a bed for him, listened to Jack and Ray going through the shelves to see what they could eat tonight, and let Ryan call someone to go get Geoff’s car.

Geoff barely talked, stayed in a corner. He observed, as if the others were in a glass cage.

They moved around each other with so much ease, side-stepping out of the way, holding doors open, leaving sentences unfinished. It looked like they were reading each others’ thoughts. It looked so synchronized, almost rehearsed.

It looked so simple.

He felt out of place. In the middle of a household he had no business being in, like a fucking square peg that someone was trying to fit through a round hole. His skin started to feel weird again as he leaned against a wall, quiet, invisible.

At least he thought he was invisible, until Michael walked right to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as if Geoff had been insulting him by staying out of their little bubble. "Come on!"

Michael pushed him into the couch-turned-bed, and Jack turned on the Xbox and looked through Netflix. They all agreed to eat after watching the movie, and the guys settled around Geoff as if it was the most natural thing.

Geoff tried leaning against Ryan, and Ryan didn’t even twitch.

It was so simple.

~

It was only a year later when he came back to his mother’s grave.

He now had over a hundred marks all over his body. He had a wind rose over his elbow, a flower on his middle finger, and a flame on his shoulder. None of them were genuine.

His soul still refused to attach itself to anything. Geoff still had no idea what, exactly, was he supposed to do with love. But he could read love in the actions of Jack, Ryan, Gavin, Michael and Ray. He could hear it in their words and feel it when they traced the ink on his body as if they were drawing it themselves.

Geoff studied. He was learning.

He put down flowers against the tombstone -real ones this time. His mother might not have had favorite flowers but Geoff did, so he’d picked those. He smiled sadly at the disappearing name on the stone.

‘ _You will be loved_ ,’ whispered his mother’s voice in his ear.

"I am," said Geoff. "Five times over. Your broken son has somehow made five people love him at once."

‘ _Nobody has that much love_ ,’ she retorted, like a ghost in his mind.

"I’m starting to understand just how wrong you’ve been." He sighed and tapped the headstone. "If only someone had found the courage to love you, you might have understood. I hope your soul is resting in peace."

He turned around. His boyfriends were waiting for him at the cemetery’s gate. They waved and smiled at him, a little timidly, a little unsure. He waved back.

~

Tattoo ink faded over time. Real Marks never did.

Geoff’s arms were a patchwork of old and recent lines as he kept adding to it, kept building up his shell -only now he didn’t want to disappear behind it. He liked it. It had become a part of him, rather than something foreign built only for protection.

And people talked behind his back, whispered when he walked past. And Geoff didn’t give a shit.

If he ever doubted himself, all he had to do was lean against one of his boyfriends and wait for their arm to come around his waist and hold him silently, hold him together. Their fingers would brush absentmindedly against the marked but blank skin.

It was so simple.


End file.
